


I heard you crying loud all the way across town

by technicolouredmonochrome



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, implied infidelity, implied!Gavin Free/Dan Gruchy, implied!Michael Jones/Lindsay Tuggey, mentions of!Ray Narvaez Jr/Joel Heyman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:51:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technicolouredmonochrome/pseuds/technicolouredmonochrome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because the three of them are meant to meet, in this life or another; their lives are lines that sometimes run parallel to each other, and other times meet once, and then never meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I heard you crying loud all the way across town

The first thing Gavin notices when he walks into the night club is the heady scent of smoke and the dank stench of alcohol heavy in the air. The room is warm, hot even, and there are pulsing lights (that makes his eyes burn behind his eyelids) and loud music (that deafens his ears and forces his heart to beat along to its rhythm) _everywhere_.

He thinks he’s close (almost there, leaning right over the edge) to passing out.

Somehow, he manages to squeeze past the mass of bodies covering nearly every inch of ground in the club and make his way to the bar, slotting himself between a couple enthusiastically making out and a huge burly man covered in tattoos crying to someone over the phone. Everyone in Austin, Texas is _weird_.

The bartender comes over, a guy no older than him with huge glasses and a goofy smile, terrible hair (that Gavin, strangely, really wants to ruffle) and the look of someone that’s seen too much and hasn’t seen enough.

“What can I get you sir?” and his voice just borders on squeaky and _barely-out-of-puberty_ , making Gavin blow the hair out of his eyes to hide the laugh that’s threaten to spill from his lips.

“The strongest thing you have love,” and he notices the way he startles when he speaks, and Gavin _knows_ that his accent tends to throw people off, sometimes, and the guy behind the bar is positively blushing as he nods and stumbles over something below the counter before quickly scurrying off. He huffs out a quiet laugh, before retrieving his phone from his pocket, the quiet albeit incessant buzz that reminds him that his problems are still there. Hiding away for one night doesn’t solve anything, he knows it doesn’t, but he still tries to hide away anyway, relishing the feeling of being able to breathe despite the lack of air in the room.

 

_I heard you crying loud,_

_all the way across town_

_You've been searching for that someone,_

_and it's me out on the prowl_

 

Ray’s hands are shaking (a little) and he misses the glass the first few times he tries to pour the drink which means he’s wasting (a lot of) it and his boss is going to cut his salary for it.

To be honest, he isn’t even sure why he’s so surprised and attracted and nervous and excited about the British boy waiting for him back at the counter. It’s not like this is the first person from Britain he’s ever talked to, or the first guy who’s blown his hair out of his eyes to hide his laugh (he had a friend who used to do it, but somehow it actually looked _good_ when this guy did it, not clumsy and trying-too-hard like his friend used to look).

There is a roaring in the back, a loud clanking that sounds in time with the pulse and throb of the music in the background. He’s heard of the problem with the lights, and he knows they’ve called in their usual electrician to fix it up. The door swings open and Ray can’t help but crane his neck a little to peer inside, appreciating the sight of a very _very_ attractive redhead taking large gulps of water as he pushes his glasses into position.

Dark eyes flicker over to him and it takes Ray a good few seconds to realise that he’s pouring liquor all over his hand and shoes.

He looks away long enough to place the bottle on the counter and grab a cloth for the spill, but the door swings shut with a soft click when he looks back up, and he echoes it with a soft, disappointed sigh.

“Looking for me?” and he spins around so fast that he nearly rams his knee into the handle of the cupboard below the sink.

“Uh,” he replies eloquently enough, feeling his face heat up as his fingers clench around the circumference of the cup. His mouth suddenly feels too dry, his tongue a heavy weight in his mouth.

Redhead smirks ( _of course_ he’d have dimples) and gestures to the bottle of liquor sitting at the counter. “Mind pouring me a glass?”

Ray shakes his head mutely, and blushes even more furiously at the wink that is sent his way as redhead saunters out, heart pounding a mile a minute because _holy shit_ that guy is hot as hell and struts like he knows it. He’s not his type, he’s too loud, too brash, too confident and cocky and _unattainable_ , even in his greasy work clothes and mussed up hair, glasses too big and wobbling on the ridge of his nose when he so much as moves. It’s as _unattractive_ as unattractive gets, but it still gets the blood roaring in his ears and his heart pounding a mile a minute. And in the midst of fiery red hair and dimpled smirks, his brain helpfully supplies an image of green eyes and brunette waiting for his glass of beer that’s taking ridiculously long to materialise.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

His boss is really going to have his head for this.

 

_As you sit around feeling sorry for yourself_

_Well, don't get lonely now_

_And dry your whining eyes_

_I'm just roaming for the moment_

_Sleazin' my back yard so don't get so uptight_

_you been thinking about ditching me_

 

Michael finds an empty seat easily enough and slides into it, fingers absently drumming against his thigh. The crowd has swelled since he was first called in, the air distinctly thicker and heavier around him. There aren’t many people who are sitting, most of them choosing to blend in with the large throng of people grinding against each other on the dance floor.

Dancing has never been his thing, the only thing bars are good for is booze and the occasional chick he’s drunk enough to pick up. It never feels like a good place to be when he’s sad or high-strung because he can barely hear himself _think_ (and god knows how much thinking he needs to do). But on evenings like these when he has no other appointments, and not to mention a fucking adorable guy casting shy glances at him and pouring liquor all over himself as he tossed back a bottle of water, he lets himself sit by the bar and soak it all in, the noise, the chatter, the lack of oxygen in the room...

Glasses guy rushes out in a flurry of activity, the apron tied around his waist flapping against his legs as he barely glances in his direction and bustles over to someone else at the bar. He can’t help the grin as he props his chin against his hand and leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s going on a couple of seats away from him.

The patron glasses guy is talking to is blocked from view, but there is a tangible blush on glasses boy’s face, a dark red that stains the back of his neck as he shuffles awkwardly and glances down shyly. Michael feels a pang of something akin to jealousy at the small smile on his face, and desperately wants to punch something (or _someone_ ) because _hey, I saw him first_. So on impulse (and Michael’s never been good with controlling his urges), he slides back out of his seat and heads a little closer to the mystery customer who’s making the bartender ( _his_ bartender fuck you very much) blush and giggle like a thirteen year old school girl.

He barely makes it a few steps before he catches brown hair and green eyes and _hello_ mystery patron is really fucking attractive.

The slight curl of his lips as he talks to glasses guy looks awkward (but not unattractive) on his face,mind Michael would guess that he’s about the same age as him despite the tired lines around his eyes that make him look years older than he actually is. He lets himself imagine kissing away those lines, smoothening them out with his thumb before he’s sinking down down down, hands clenched in his hair–

“Sir?” and he spins around so quickly he almost loses his balance, but manages to catch onto side of his seat before he topples over in a heap and embarrasses himself in front of strangers. “Your drink,” glasses guy quickly continues as he pushes a cup of something golden brown towards him. Michael gives him a pleased little grin by way of payment.

“That’s good. Thanks.” And he takes a sip before sitting back down, propping his elbows against the countertop and leaning forward. “So. I don’t think I got your name.”

The look of surprise and accompanying blush is gratifying as fuck and he grins, all parts feral as he waits for an answer. Oh this kid was a _catch_. “Um,” and Michael almost giggles (giggles!) at the tremble in his voice, sounding like he’s terrified and excited and oh boy this is going to be so much fun. “Uh– it’s uh– Ray.”

“Michael,” he replies, sending him a wink. “You got a few minutes for me Ray?”

“I get off in an hour,” he blurts out instead, and blushes even harder. “If– if you can wait for me?”

Michael thinks his face is going to split in half from all the grinning he’s doing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

_No time to search the world around_

_Cause you know where I'll be found_

_When I come around_

 

Gavin notices Ray (he’d thought to ask for his name this time) stop near the door, stammering and blushing as he talks to someone near the end of the counter. He cranes his neck and catches a glimpse of red hair and dimples, and tries to tamp down the slight unhappiness that’s churning in his gut. Well, this is a _bar_ after all, there’s bound to be other people hitting on the cute kid serving them drinks. But he’d hoped that today (of all days) no one would be flirting with the same guy he has an eye for. At least this other mystery guest is sort of good-looking, in a rugged, hard-worker way. Gavin’s guess is that his hands would be rough, weathered, full of callouses, what with the dirty overalls and grease staining his otherwise white shirt.

He sips his drink thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat when Ray’s eyes quickly flick over to him, offering him a small, private smile before he quickly turns away and returns his full attention to the guy in front of him. His phone is still buzzing, and the huge man next to him growls out a rather loud “Shut that fucking thing up will ya?” making Gavin pick it up, reject the call and put the damn thing in his pocket.

The phone starts buzzing again a minute later.

“ _Jesus_ ,” he growls this time, and the huge man ignores him in favour of nursing the giant glass of beer that somehow looks dwarfed in his even giant-et (is there even such a word? _Giant-er_?) palms. He cancels the call and switches off his phone, taking another long gulp of alcohol, appreciating the burn down his throat.

“Long night huh,” someone says right behind him, and he startles so badly that he nearly pours the rest of his drink on himself. After regaining his composure and carefully repositioning his drink on the table, he spins around, all heat and fiery words on the tip of his tongue that dry out the moment he sees _him_ (there’s really no better way to put it across) and he fiddles with his shirt out of the lack of better things to do. He hasn’t felt this nervous in _ages_.

There are dark eyes looking him over and Gavin abruptly feels way too exposed and far too sober to deal with this (attractive) man, so he gulps down the rest of his drink and blinks away the stars lighting up behind his eyelids. A warm hand clasps his forearm and _holy shit_ they’re as warm and roughened and calloused as he’d thought they’d be.

“I’m Michael,” he says, not at all fazed by the way Gavin freezes up, muscles tensing, and he _knows_ his expression is a conflicted mix of _fight or flight, fight or flight, fightorflight_. “You, uh, come here often?”

Gavin shakes his head and pulls himself away from his grip. (Although really, he kind of wants to lean in and fit his head in space between Michael’s neck and shoulder because _damn_ that looks like an awfully comfortable place to take a nap–) “I’m uh, Gavin.” And he’s positive he hasn’t sound this unsure and pathetic in ages. It’s the first time he’s actually thankful for the accent because Michael doesn’t notice the slight stutter and goes still instead, and Gavin sees the exact moment he goes from _well hello this boy is handsome and I’d love to flirt with him_ to _holyfuckingshit wow this dude is hot I’d totally do him_ and he’s okay with it. Completely, more than okay with it.

He watches Michael’s brain restart, his entire body pitching sideways as he snaps out of his daze, hand pressing against the counter to keep himself steady. (Or maybe it’s just that his vision is swimming a lot from drowning the alcohol too fast; whatever it is, he feels no pain and really can’t be bothered anyway.) “Whoa,” he says, and stops. Ends up just staring staring staring at him as Gavin unconsciously licks the corner of his lips, catching the slightly bitter taste of residual alcohol on the tip of his tongue.

“Well aren’t you eloquent,” he manages, along with a wry smile, turning swiftly and hopping back into his seat, patting the now empty one next to him. “I’ll pick up the tab for our next round of drinks. Care to join me?”

When Michael doesn’t reply (not verbally at least, and Gavin is sort of proud that he’s somehow managed to render someone speechless), just mutely slides into the seat next to him, Gavin feels the beginning of a grin lifting the corners of his lips and raises his hand for attention.

“Ray? Could you get us another glass each please?” and Michael’s still staring staring staring, and Gavin feels heat pool low in his belly and resists the urge to tangle his fingers in Michael’s hair and kiss him senseless there and then.

 

_I heard it all before_

_So don't knock down my door_

_I'm a loser and a user so I don't need no accuser_

_to try and flag me down because I know you're right_

 

Ray is (a little) upset that Gavin and Michael are getting drinks together, so he places their drinks a little harder than necessary on the counter. Even more awful is that they’re so _caught up_ with each other that they don’t even notice, which makes Ray hurt (just a little) on the inside.

It’s not everyday that he finds himself so thrown by two amazingly hot strangers that seem to reciprocate his interest. So it’s okay just to feel a tiny, teeny bit jealous and hurt and upset. It’s perfectly understandable and normal and expected, because Ray was only human after all.

What’s irrational is the sudden spike of arousal when he watches Gavin lean forward, lips barely, almost, brushing Michael’s ear, whose neck heats, bright bright red against pale skin and the blush continues spreading down down down as Gavin keeps speaking, lips parting and closing in an almost obscene manner, the short hairs on the back of Michael’s neck shifting with each word. Ray is many things but he isn’t a masochist, so if this was killing him inside, he’d have turned away by now, stormed up and chucked a glass of water at Michael’s face while calling him an asshole (to begin with) and end with swearing to never talk to either of them ever again (“Oh, and you can _forget_ about meeting me later tonight you shithead.”). Instead, he’s stuck appreciating the slight tremors that travel down the skin on Michael’s neck and Gavin’s half-lidded eyes as he keeps talking, whispering, murmuring.

(He can hear British accented words licking promises into his ear and he shivers involuntarily at the thought.)

So all this is good. Great. It’s sexy and amazing and makes him want to take himself in his hand and jerk himself off to watching the two of them make out on a couch or something. His own personal, live porn. _It’d be great_ , he thinks and discreetly tries to adjust himself in his jeans. _It’d be...great._

He turns quickly when they break apart, the both of them so cocksure and confident that they practically glow with it, and he busies himself with a stray glass while trying to sort out the conflicting hurt and arousal that’s warring in his brain. Because no matter how good they’d look together (tangled, sweaty, lips kiss-bruised and swollen) he saw them, the both of them, _first_ goddammit. And a selfish little part of him wants to keep it that way.

His libido, however, has a mind of its own.

Stepping further from where they’re still completely wrapped up in one another, he hears Michael call out (call _him_ ) for a drink, but he gestures to his colleague as he makes a quick escape, rushing into the swinging doors in the back and leaning heavily against the door, gnawing on his lower lip, because _goddamn_ he isn’t even sure what to do with this situation.

He doesn’t think he’s getting a date tonight, and that thought makes his insides drop with disappointment.

Whatever. It’s not like they are the only people who he’s felt attraction toward. _Hell_ they're definitely not the first people to have hit on him. He’d be fine. He will deal with his disappointment.

Who needs them anyway right?

 

_So go do what you like_

_Make sure you do it wise_

_You may find out that your self-doubt means nothing_

_was ever there_

 

Michael frowns when Ray ignores him, watching him disappear into the back room.

“Think he’s okay?” Gavin murmurs, and Michael can smell the drink heavy on his breath.

He shrugs and takes a sip from his glass, trying to ignore the slight worry churning in his gut. _It’s nothing_ he tells himself. _He’s probably just...busy or something_. Gavin is still staring at the closed door, brow furrowed and worrying his bottom lip. It’s oddly attractive, and although he may have just lost his date for the evening, he tells himself that it’s good enough to just have Gavin. It’s good enough. Good enough. Good en–

“I was hoping the three of us could have a thing,” Gavin says, bottom lip still trapped between his teeth. Michael really wants to lick away the swell when Gavin finally frees it, but forces himself to stay on track because _fucking hell_ he has a good thing here and he deserves a good thing, even if it’s just for one night.

 _Focus Michael_. “That’s what I was hoping for too,” and suddenly all he can think about it how he needs to work this shit out. “I’m sure we could try asking, you don’t think he’ll mind do you?”

“Hard to say,” Gavin says with a short sigh. “He doesn’t even look like he’s had sex with a guy before.”

Michael feels an involuntary shiver at the way Gavin says _sex_ , all rough and coarse and a juxtaposition to the smooth lilting British accent that tints the word. _Focus_. “I could try talking to him, corner him in the back and ask him if he’s in. I’ve seen him follow a couple of guys back before. Didn’t have the chance to talk to him back then, but always kept my eye on him.”

Gavin sticks out his tongue at him. “That’s creepy Michael!” And he already loves the way Gavin says his name (can’t wait to hear it in a different context later– _Focus_ ). “And since you’ve had your eye on him for awhile,” he continues, all haughty and with an air of indifference, “Sure you don’t mind sharing?”

Michael grins at that because he sees through the layers of cool to the uncertainty and jealousy buried underneath. “Pretty sure it’ll be more fun to fuck the both of you.”

He watches Gavin’s jaw go slack at that, pupils dilating and hand flexing around his cup. He’d love to feel it clenched around his– “What are you waiting for then?” he growls, and Michael shivers again, standing and dusting his pants (partially to wait out the boner that’s making it difficult to walk and partially to watch the way Gavin tracks the movement of his hands, no doubt imagining them on his bare thighs. _Fuck_ ).

“Going your majesty,” and he adds a bow for effect, grinning at the impatient noise Gavin makes.

The back room is a tiny thing that barely has space for two people to stand. He finds Ray crouched in a corner, trying (and failing) to light the cigarette dangling from between his lips. It’s only when he’s standing near enough to touch that Ray looks up, watching him through long, dark lashes. Almost immediately, recognition flickers over his face and his expression shutters down, ignoring him in favour of renewing his efforts in lighting the cigarette.

“Ray,” Michael starts, and he watches the almost imperceptible tensing of his shoulders. “Do you have a minute?”

“Can’t stop you even if I wanted to.”

Michael hears the hurt and slight unhappiness in his tone, so he hunches down and settles in next to Ray, pressing his shoulder against his and feeling the warmth through the cotton of his shirt. Ray stiffens at the contact, and visibly forces himself to relax as he goes back to lighting his cigarette, studiously ignoring Michael.

If there had been any questions about whether Ray had been okay when he had spotted both Gavin and Michael by the bar, they are answered by the time Ray has his cigarette lit, slowly breathing it in in the small space. He’s definitely not okay, from the way his fingers are gripped too tight around the small stick to the slight furrow between his eyebrows. And Michael hates that humans have to be so fucking _complicated_ –because seriously who needs things like jealousy and boundaries any-fucking-way right?

So, he makes an executive decision (and a fucking good one too, fuck you very much). Snatching the cigarette from between Ray’s fingers, receiving a glare in exchange for his trouble, he brings the lighted stick to his lips and takes a slow, deliberate puff, enjoying the shot of nicotine that starts a buzz at the back of his skull and spreads to all his nerve endings. Fucking amazing. “So Ray. Gavin sent me in here after you.”

Ray makes to snatch it back from him, but Michael just huffs out a laugh and holds if out of his reach, watching him try (and fail, again) to get around him and steal his precious nicotine on a stick from him. When he realises Michael isn’t giving it back until he answers, he sighs out a quiet “So?” and thumps his head against the wall behind.

Michael grins. “So. We were wondering what you think of a three-way.”

He doesn’t say it like it’s a question, doesn’t intend for it to sound like a question either, keeps grinning at him as he watches his mouth hang open, all thoughts grinding to a halt inside his head, lips fighting to form words.

And _yet_ he still manages to look fucking adorable. That is absolutely not fucking fair (it makes him want to keep him already and seriously, _fuck his life_ ).

They stay like that for awhile, Michael feeling warm ashes falling onto his jeans and brushing them off so that he has something to do with his hands. Sucks in another breath of cigarette because he can taste Ray on the edge of the paper and it’s so so good (can’t wait to taste him later and slowly drink and breathe him in).

 _Godammit Michael_ , he grits to himself against the arousal. _Get ahold on yourself. Focus._

And he loses himself in the curl of the smoke in the dusty yellow light of the back room, until he hears a quiet but firm “Okay” that makes him turn to look at Ray so fast, he swears he hears something snap (maybe it’s just his self-restraint, lying in pieces on the floor, making him want to jump Ray’s bones there and then like a horny teenager).

“Okay,” he repeats instead, for _confirmation_ , because he sure as hell isn’t asking him again.

 

_You can't go forcing something if it's just_

_not right_

 

Something finally settles down in Gavin’s gut when Michael walks out with a slightly dazed Ray in tow. He’s still impatient, bloody hell he really is, but he can wait, will wait for Ray’s shift to be over. They have the whole evening ahead, and it’d be good to spend it in the company of strangers.

It’s comfortable talking to both Michael and Ray as the two of them sip drinks and Ray bustles around the bar, tending to other customers and concocting different things for them to try. He hazards a question at Ray, asks him why he doesn’t steal a cup or two while he’s working. He stops moving, glances at Gavin, expression terrified before it vanishes and is replaced by a flippant grin. He jokes that if he _did_ do that and his boss found out, he’d be paying for a lot more than just that cup of drink. But as the hour drags on and Michael tells them about a girl back home (red hair something something, perfect something something, loved him when no one else would–), Ray’s expression scrunches, and he blurts out an “It’s my dad” that stops Michael short.

They don’t say much after that, listening to Ray’s story of being a little boy growing up amongst drunk men and watching alcohol destroy his father’s life. Michael is slouched over the bar but attentive, and Gavin instinctively leans across and grabs Ray’s hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. When he finishes, a silence descends on their group, but it’s comfortable and rests easily between them, and Gavin feels the way Ray seems lighter already, leans across and runs his thumb across his knuckles again.

“My boyfriend’s in the army,” he finally finds it in himself to say, watches the way the two of them snap out of their stupor and lean in to listen. “He, uh, enlisted about a year ago, and we’ve barely had two phone calls between us in the last six months.”

“Where?” Michael finally sits up enough to ask. Gavin notices the way his eyes hold pain of some kind, like he knows what it feels like to stand helplessly at the door of your house and stare down the empty lawn waiting for the postman to deliver something, _anything_ , that’d tell him he’s still alive out there somewhere.

He swallows the lump forming in his throat, and manages the word “Afghanistan” before he gulps down another mouthful of alcohol. When the stars in the vision clear out he’s thankful for Ray’s thumb smoothing out the skin on the back his hand, and feels the weight of Michael’s gaze, neither pitying nor mocking, just... _empathetic_ , and it’s nice.

The longer Ray holds his hand, Michael watching him carefully and holding him in his eyes, the easier it becomes for him to talk, about _Dan_ , and god he hasn’t said his name in forever, the way it sounds from his lips so foreign that he chokes on it a little before it comes out all the way. _Dan. Daniel. Dan Gruchy. Daniel–_

Michael starts talking, about the cash on hand never being enough, and _fuck_ he really wants a place of his own, but he’s got a wedding he wants to consider, and a beautiful woman back home that he wants to propose to but he’s terrified of commitment, and it’s when he’s leaning forward, head almost in his lap that Gavin is hit by a very strong, very strange sense of dejavu.

It doesn’t make sense at all, and rightfully so; he’s never seen these people before, and probably won’t see them anymore in the future. They all have different lives, different places to be, different jobs, histories, families, houses. It’s just the strange feeling that–

“Under different circumstances, I think the three of us would’ve been best friends,” Ray says seriously. “Gavin and I would’ve been the best men at your wedding. We’d _definitely_ make sure it’s the most perfect ceremony in the world.”

It’s a nice sentiment and Gavin takes a moment to picture it: the three of them decked out in suits as a beautiful lady walks down the aisle, and Michael grinning, so wide and so honest and absolutely happy. The sentiment is lost on Michael however, who performs a little eyebrow waggle. “The best men that I would’ve fucked during my bachelor party,” Michael replies, grinning crassly and leering at them. “Cause seriously? I would be fucking dumb to not tap that when I have the chance.”

And just like that, the flood of arousal he felt before comes crashing back in, and his pants are distinctivelt tighter already, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat. To his gratification, he’s not the only one looking uncomfortable sitting still. The music had slowed to a faraway thumpthumpthump awhile ago only they hadn’t noticed, but now the air thar hangs between them is thick and stifling, and Gavin really, really wants to see how far down Ray’s blush goes.

It’s Ray who speaks first. “My apartment’s nearby.”

It’s all the invitation they need.

 

_No time to search the world around_

_Cause you know where I'll be found_

_When I come around_

 

The night becomes a huge mess of tongue and teeth on flesh, hands roaming everywhere, litanies of _oh god, please–_ , moans and whimpers filling in the spaces in between.

In a different life, they could’ve been. But as it is, they lose themselves in the feel of each other, toes curling, head thrown back as they’re going, going, goin–

 

_When I come around_

_When I come around_

Michael comes to first. He turns over and untangles himself from the sheets. Takes a moment to watch Ray and Gavin, still curled up around each other, fast asleep. Runs his fingers through Ray’s hair, presses his palm against the smooth planes of Gavin’s back and feels him stir. Pulls away and finds his clothes amidst the mess on the floor, throws them on haphazardly and notices the missed call. _Lindsay._ “Hey babe,” he whispers as he puts on his shoes. “Yeah I’m good. Heading home now,” takes a pause, breathes it in. “Love you.” He spares one more glance at the two men curled up fast asleep in the middle of the bed, dead to the world and feels a smile. “Thanks,” he murmurs to the silent room, and shuts the door behind him.

Gavin is the next to wake up. The clock shows eight in the morning, and the boy in his arms is still fast asleep. He extracts himself slowly, pulls the covers back over Ray, rolls out of the bed and stretches out the cricks in his neck. Escaping to the bathroom, he presses his forehead against the small mirror, lets the coolness of the glass chill the burning of his face, the warmth that clings to skin and settles deep into his bones. _Warm_. It takes a minute to fix his hair, straighten out his clothes and attempt to wash out the burning of his cheeks (which are a nice nice red he hasn’t seen on himself since a long time ago). He feels cooler already, but he still looks properly fucked out, and he likes it that way; tries a smile in the mirror and notices how easily it comes to him, all loose and warm and easy. He picks up his bag (phone, wallet, a copy of Dan’s dog tags) and heads out, turning and smiling softly at the light streaming into the room, illuminating the soft glow of the warm, brown skin that covers Ray. “Bye,” he whispers, and it’s so familiar his hand itches to touch one last time (he doesn’t).

Ray wakes up, turns in his bed and notices the empty spaces next to him. He spreads out, feels the lingering warmth of Michael and Gavin and smiles to himself, pushing himself out of bed, the soreness in his back making itself known, a nice ache that reaches deep within him and it’s nice, _good_ even. His clothes are the only ones left on the floor and he toes them into the basket, making a mental note to do the laundry soon, stepping into the shower and letting cold water fall over him in a way that’s both soothing and calming. Grins into the spray, tries to catch stray droplets on his fingers and feels them slipslipslip away.

(In another life, they are best friends, running around an office and playing video games and having movie nights together, making videos and hanging out with people (their family) that found them. Ray and Gavin are the best men at Michael’s wedding, Gavin gets married to Dan, and Ray finds someone in the office, a man named Joel, that holds him through the night and makes everything better. In another life, they live together and are best friends that occasionally sleep together and always have each other’s backs.

In this life, they never meet again.)

**Author's Note:**

> written for ally who is amazing and wonderful. sorry this is so overdue. the song used is Green Day's _When I Come Around_. hope you guys liked it!


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